Chapter Twenty-Two
For at least the hundredth time in his chaotic life, Harry wished he was more organized. As he looked over the messy stacks of parchments and newspapers covering his kitchen table trying to make some sort of sense out of the madness, he regretted not taking Hermione up on all of her offers to help him when they were younger. He had never been one for paperwork. It was all so dreadfully boring. Action was always best. Or nearly always.
Early on his Auror training he discovered how much of it was paperwork and how little of it was actually fighting dark wizards. He'd requested a transfer to the Department of Mysteries after only a few weeks. It made more sense. Why would he want to continue fighting dark wizards and witches as an adult when he'd already been doing that for most of his adolescence? It was madness for him to become an auror. Why anyone thought that would be the best profession for him at the end of the war was a mystery. But no, it really wasn't. None of them really knew him well enough to offer the right advice.
He wasn't sure that he wanted to remain an Unspeakable either. That option was still there as both Kingsley and his immediate supervisor informed him multiple times. The decision had yet to be made. His future was so uncertain. Without a monster to fight, who was he really? His very identity seemed to be entirely hinged on who his current adversary was. Would he ever be able to live just a quiet, relatively normal life? It sounded like bliss to him even if he knew most would find it boring and wish for the adventures he'd had.
A pair of slim hands sliding down his chest from behind startled him out of his increasingly depressing thoughts. Recognizing those hands at once, he happily leaned back against Luna with a smile. Her presence was an unexpected yet very welcome surprise.
"You're getting quieter with your sneaking in."
"Or maybe your thoughts are getting louder."
Luna pressed her lips against the side of his head.
"You should've knocked. What if I cursed you thinking you were an intruder?"
"I've never been afraid of you, Harry Potter, and that's not changing today."
Having Luna back was a real comfort. Not to mention his mind kept traveling back to the day he had her laid on top of the very table he was sitting at. He wouldn't mind pushing all of the parchment aside and recreating that day without the rude interruption from Ron.
"What is all of this?"
She pulled the chair next to his out to sit down. Immediately, he missed the feel of her hands. He was pathetic. Taking a moment to process the question she asked, Harry sighed. It was a mess that was steadily overwhelming him.
"I'm trying to make a list of people I could get on my side with the whole Barty Crouch issue."
Recognizing he needed a little bit of encouragement, Luna leaned over to kiss his cheek. The first night she returned from her trip with her father he told her everything. As was to be expected from such an interesting and charming creature as she was, she was fully on board. If there was anyone who understood why he was so anxious and determined to rid the world of the stain of the dementors, it was Luna. Many nights he'd unburdened himself in the darkness of one of their bedrooms. He had never been so open with anyone else.
"I know you haven't wanted to do it yet, but it may be time for you tell your whole story about the dementors, what happened to you third year, how Umbridge sent the dementors to attack you in fifth year and it nearly Kissed your cousin. Everyone needs to hear why you were so determined to get rid of he dementors."
"How do you think that will help?"
"Most people don't know anything about dementors beyond the fact that they used to guard Azkaban. They've never been close enough to feel what it's like to have the worst moments of their life replayed in their head for them to feed on."
Her voice caught slightly as she spoke. Harry reached across to place his hand over hers. A gentle squeeze was his silent offer of comfort. He knew exactly what she meant. In a private moment, one of those nights he let his tongue get away from him while they caught their breaths, she confessed seeing her mother die over and over again in her head when she was near a dementor. No one had been a bigger supporter of his mission to destroy them all.
"Explain how indescribably evil dementors were. Make them see how wrong the Ministry of Magic was to use them on their own people, even the bad ones. The Ministry has a lot of wrongs in their history that need to be righted. Open some eyes. You'll have supporters. I promise."
She was passionate about it and he was glad to have her on his side. If it was possible, he wouldn't mind going his entire life without ever being on her wrong side. Luna Lovegood was no enemy he desired. Sometimes she could scare him. But, he couldn't deny in that moment that she had an excellent point.
"You're right. Should I owl Rita Skeeter to invite her over for an interview?"
A playful slap to his chest with the back of her hand was her answer. Of course he was only kidding. There was no one he would trust less than Skeeter with a story that needed to be told.
"No, the story needs to be told somewhere it can actually be believed, a trusted source. My father might even put you on the cover if we ask nicely."
Despite hating everything about the Daily Prophet, Hermione forced herself to check it every single morning. Missing the big reveal of Barty's fate had been a terrible lapse in judgement. She couldn't afford to be caught unaware again. Rita was definitely up to something. The visit to her office proved she was growing impatient, maybe even a little desperate. History taught them all it was never a good idea to make that awful witch desperate for a story.
Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one anxious to dig up a salacious story to sell to the mindless masses. Reporters continued to come and go as they pleased at Hermione's home, desperately looking for some sort of tidbit they could wring a couple of knuts out of or cobble together to earn a little notoriety. It was exhausting. Every day she wished more and more that she took the extra step when she bought her home to make it Unplottable. No doubt Harry took that charming feature of his home for granted.
Over a week had gone by since Rita came to her office and nothing had been written yet. January was quickly coming to a close. Perhaps she was being overly paranoid, but Hermione couldn't shake the unnerving feeling that something awful was coming. Maybe Rita was just biding her time to make a maximum effect. It was weird for the horrible woman to be patient, though not entirely out of character.
"There's another reporter in the back garden."
Hermione nearly dropped the newspaper at the sound of Barty's voice. She hadn't realized he'd walked into the kitchen. With him nearby she felt tense. He hadn't tried to kiss her since their last kiss at the cliffs, but she always wondered if he was about to. Even had to chastise herself for realizing the smallest part of her wanted him to try. She took that as a sign that she desperately needed to get out more. Maybe try dating again.
"I need to strengthen the wards. They're not supposed to be able to get that close to the house."
"It's easy to break through security wards when you're determined. Have you ever thought about using blood to..?"
Her face must have showed her discomfort at his suggestion because he didn't even try to finish his sentence. It was an unfortunate trait she inherited from her mother. If her mouth didn't say what she was thinking, her face probably would. Barty appeared to be attempting to not roll his eyes.
"Blood magic isn't always bad."
"Yes, I remember you had some controversial ideas about blood magic when you were a professor."
Other than the time he mentioned enjoying reading Colin Creevey's essays when he was masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody, they had not brought up that part of their shared past since he began living in her guest room. It was easier to not talk about the past. Why was he mentioning it then? Maybe they had finally run out of inconsequential small talk.
"Controversial? Yes, but you learned from me. I was a good teacher."
"Think about what a career you could've had if you forgot how much you hated your father long enough to not be recruited by Voldemort. You could've been an actual professor."
The very second the words were out of her mouth Hermione realized what a personal attack she made. It hadn't been her intention to go after him that way. He instantly looked ashamed as the facts of her statement made their mark. She wished she hadn't let her foul mood get the better of her tongue for the countless time in her life. There was a better, kinder way to get her point across that would've been better received and wouldn't make her feel so terribly guilty.
"Barty, I'm…"
He held up his hand to stop her from blurting out whatever she was trying to say.
"Don't apologize. You're not wrong."
Without another word, he spun on his heel to make his escape from the kitchen. Moments later his bedroom door shutting only made her feel even more awful than she already did. They had been making progress. Had she ruined it all just because she was frustrated and wished she could crawl back in her bed instead of facing the day?
She flipped through the rest of the newspaper to make certain she didn't miss anything she needed to read. Nothing important caught her eye. Seeing no reason to linger at home any longer, Hermione exited the front door to Apparate to London. Another reporter stood outside shouting questions at her the second she appeared that she was able to easily ignore. Tuning out the annoying sounds was getting easier by the second.
Focusing on her work was difficult that day. Somehow she managed to get some of it done in spite of her wandering thoughts. She didn't know why she was so rude to Barty that morning. The uncertainty of everything happening was making life difficult. Something definitive needed to happen soon or she wasn't sure she would be able to fully retain her sanity.
The second half of her day was spent entirely down in the dusty, dark Ministry Archives continuing her research in some hope that she could assuage her conscience. Harry's suggestion that she work faster at finding something kept echoing through her mind in a loop. She was trying. It wasn't as if she had thrown up her hands, declared it impossible, and was just sitting around waiting for someone else to figure it out. She wondered what Harry was doing. He promised he would help, but she hadn't spoken to him in days. Maybe he was just humoring her. It wouldn't be the first time.
Long after most of the Ministry officials went home for the night she returned to her office to grab her cloak. She was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to go home and straight to bed. Finding Blaise still seated at his desk looking over a thick stack of parchment was a surprise. Usually he was one of the first to leave every day.
"I assumed you'd already be three drinks in chatting up your latest tart by now."
Yet again that day she wished she hadn't said anything. Why did she go straight to being nasty? Blaise looked up from his work but didn't set his quill down. His smile seemed a little more forced than usual.
"That certainly sounds like a much more diverting way to spend the evening."
He returned his focus to his work, not taking the obvious bait. It was enough unlike him to concern her. She decided to try a nicer approach. Just because she was in a terrible mood didn't mean she had to drag everyone down with her too.
"You're here late. Why?"
His quill continued to scribble.
"There's plenty of work left. If we're not careful, we could get too far behind to catch up."
"Is this because of my research? Do you think I'm spending too much time in the Archives?"
"I never said that."
"But it's what you're thinking."
Blaise set his quill down. His eyes met hers. She was surprised to see how serious he suddenly was. It was very unusual for the wizard who was usually so quick to make everything a joke, often at her expense.
"I don't mind doing my job, Hermione, and no, that's not what I was thinking."
Curiosity threatened to loosen her tongue again, but she didn't want to push him. He wasn't the sort to speak against his will. As it turned out, she need not have bothered.
"It's my fault the secret of Crouch being alive and in your house got out. I was showing off. Because of me, you've had all of that unnecessary attention."
She didn't think it was possible for him to surprise her again that day. Somehow he managed. Every word he uttered took her completely off-guard.
"Blaise, are you saying that you feel guilty?"
"Is that so difficult for you to believe?"
Evident offense was present in each syllable of his question. Yet another surprise. It was not like him to be so open and honest. Usually, he was much more guarded. Whether that was a side-effect of being a Slytherin or one of the reasons he was Sorted into that House, she couldn't be sure.
"No, I suppose not."
His heavy sigh filled the room with a further sort of tension she couldn't describe.
"I'm not as deluded as you think I am, you know. I'm well aware of the fact that not every witch I meet is in love with me."
There was a bitterness in his tone she hadn't heard before. He was usually better at hiding his true feelings. Another Slytherin trait, she knew. Emotions and truth could be powerful weapons in that House.
"I had a suspicion the woman from the Daily Prophet was up to something, but she was attractive and I let my vanity get in the way of my good sense."
If Blaise was going to make a habit of being so honest with Hermione in the future, she thought she could really start to like the man more. Never before had he been so open, so blunt about his own thoughts. She couldn't deny it was nice to see that side to him. He was human. Who would have ever guessed? Before that evening, she hadn't been entirely sure. Was there hope that one day they could actually be friends? The thought didn't horrify her like it used to.
"I suspected she was trying to get more information from me and I didn't care. I told her what she wanted to know because I was selfish. I'm very sorry."
Never once did Hermione expect him to apologize for his role in the secret getting out. At least not sincerely. There might still be a great deal she could learn about the wizard she'd shared an office with for three years, but she knew he meant every word he said. She hated that he obviously felt uncomfortable unburdening his conscience and wanted to help make it easier.
"There's no need…"
"No, there is. What I did was very wrong. If I can work a little later each day to give you the opportunity to do the research you must, it's hardly a sacrifice."
Realizing how kind he was being was going to take some getting used to, she thought. Maybe she never would. Until that moment it would have felt too bizarre to imagine.
"Thank you, Blaise."
"Have you had any luck?"
It was her turn to sigh in frustration. At least the tension from earlier dissipated for the most part. There always existed a little underlying tension between the two coworkers. That wasn't going away any time soon no matter what happened next.
"Not really, I'm afraid. I feel like I keep hitting a brick wall. Nothing I find seems to apply or it would be too flimsy to argue. It's frustrating."
Blaise offered her an encouraging smile she didn't know how to handle.
"You'll find something. I'm sure of it."
Exhausted and with no further reason to remain at the Ministry, Hermione returned home. All day long she dreaded seeing Barty again after their uncomfortable discussion that morning. Would it still be awkward? Would he continue to hide his bedroom to avoid being in the same room she was in? She had to be more careful with her words. That had, unfortunately, been an issue for most of her life. Without meaning to, she had a habit of being brutally honest. Not everyone appreciated that.
A loud flash from a camera behind her followed her through the front door. She didn't even bother paying them any attention. Eventually the reporters would get bored when they realize there was no story there, nothing worth mentioning. It would be a great disappointment to them to discover very little of any sort of excitement took place within the walls of her home.
Part of her was both surprised and a little disappointed to not find Barty in the lounge watching the television. It was where he usually was when she got home. Was he avoiding her? She felt guilty all over again for letting her tongue get the better of her senses. What she said to him wasn't wrong, but it was still unkind. There were gentler ways she could have brought up such a sensitive subject. Or better yet, they could've just continued to ignore it as they had been doing since the beginning.
She went straight to her bedroom to change out of her Ministry clothes into something a little more comfortable. Seeing her comfortable bed, she was tempted to just crawl between the sheets, close her eyes, and forget the stressful day. Only her empty stomach kept her from her desire. There was a great deal of food left over from the last time Winky came to visit.
When she pushed open the kitchen door, Hermione wasn't expecting to find Barty seated at the table reading the newspaper and eating. The less brave half of her seriously considered escaping the room before either one of them had the chance to open their mouths. She was worried he would be cold or snarky after their conversation that morning.
"Did you find a law that will get me sent back to Azkaban?"
Hearing the humor in his voice as he asked his daily question relaxed her somewhat. At least he appeared to be trying to move on from earlier.
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow."
It continued to amaze her that he was able to find any sort of joke in his current predicament. If the situation was reversed and she was the one who had to wait each day to find out if she was going to be doomed to a lifetime in prison, she wasn't sure she could find it funny. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself a smile and a shake of her head. Everyone was entitled to their own warped, twisted sense of humor, she supposed.
She pulled open the cupboard door closest to the sink. Not seeing the plates on the bottom shelf as they had been the last time she opened the cupboard, she bit back a frustrated sigh. Struggling to find something to keep him occupied and his wits intact while he was alone in the house all day, Barty had developed a terrible habit of rearranging cupboards and drawers that didn't need organizing. There had already been a couple of rows over the issue. She thought it had been resolved, but apparently not. Perhaps he was the sort who enjoyed cleaning when he was upset. The sink did seem to almost sparkle.
Some of his improvements might have been appreciated, but she couldn't see the sense of putting the plates on the top shelf. She was hardly what one might consider a tall person. Top shelves were for items that weren't needed every day. When he wasn't looking, she vowed to put everything back just the way she had it.
Magic would've gotten a plate down with very little effort. Unfortunately, she realized too late that her wand was still in the pocket of her Ministry robes. She reached her arm up as high as she could. Even on her tiptoes she was only just able to brush her fingertips on the edge of the stack of plates. Ready to give it up as impossible and return for her wand, Hermione froze in place at the feel of Barty behind her reaching up into the same cupboard. They hadn't been that close since the day he kissed her. She hardly dared to breathe.
Barty handed her a plate. With a clearing of his throat and his eyes looking anywhere but at her, it seemed that he was feeling the same way about being so close again. She took the plate from him, cursing her hand for shaking. Did he notice? She sincerely hoped not. Once she had the plate safely in her grasp, she stepped away from him quickly, hoping he wasn't offended. She just couldn't think clearly when he was too close.
"I'm sorry about what I said this morning."
Still unable to look directly at her, Barty returned to the table to sit down and pick the newspaper back up. He looked as if he didn't want to continue the conversation. Truthfully, neither did Hermione, but she felt that she had to or they would regress back to a less comfortable time in their past. Though she might not admit it to anyone else, she had been enjoying their conversations, the uneventful nights they watched something mindless on television together. Living with him hadn't been the worst experience of her life as she once expected it would be.
"Nothing you said was a lie, was it?"
"I shouldn't have said…"
"You didn't lie. I allowed my hatred of my father to ruin my life. If I'd been a stronger person, I could've had a much better life and less people would've been harmed in the process. Perhaps my parents would both still be alive and I would've found some way to make my father proud. Or I could've learned how to not let his impossible standards bother me."
There was no way for him to hide the regret in his tone. It was possible he didn't even want to. Everything he said was open and honest. Just as Blaise had done a short time earlier in the evening, he was making himself vulnerable, sharing a part of himself that he hadn't been willing to yet. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have as deep of regrets as he did. The ones she had in her life were bad enough and no one had died because of her actions. Regret was powerful. She was both glad to see that he hadn't been unaffected by his past mistakes and sorry that he was still so affected. He would have to live with what he did for the rest of his life. That in itself was a punishment. Even living outside of Azkaban, he wasn't completely free.
"Anything interesting or worth reporting in today's paper?"
Changing the subject to something less serious was the best idea she had for moving the conversation forward. The tense atmosphere of the room quickly grew more relaxing as he shared the ridiculous article he was reading about the latest session of the Wizengamot. They were able to have a much more enjoyable evening staying away from serious topics.
